Tommy's Birthday
by AlternateEgo91
Summary: Oliver doesn't share his feelings. Oliver doesn't say more than he has to. Ever. So how is he going to get through Tommy's birthday a year after he loses him? Vodka. Lots and lots of vodka. However, Felicity believes no one should ever drink alone.


**AN: I was having some missing Tommy feels so I wrote a little something about Oliver missing Tommy with some fluffy Olicity goodness. Let me know what you think! **

Today was Tommy's birthday. It had been a year since his best friend's life was cut short in the Glades. One year since a massive crater made its home in Oliver's chest. Today, it felt like someone had filled it with asphalt. The weight of losing Tommy was not comparable to anything he had ever felt in his life, and considering Oliver's past history, that was saying a hell of a lot. No one in his new life as CEO of QC had any idea what emotional torture today brought him and those in his old life knew him well enough to steer clear of him. Those closet to him had spent enough time with post island Oliver to know, trying to make him talk was a losing battle. The man was a brick wall of silence. Not to mention, those same people had watched the pair grow up, and had a sufficient amount of grieving to do on their own. True to form, Oliver had barely spoken to anyone about aforementioned crater that was slowly gnawing away at what Oliver thought was a poor excuse of soul. Like most of his past, he forced all his feelings down into that deep dark cavern that reappear vividly through his nightmares.

After a lengthy, tedious, brutally uninteresting day at the office, he had told both Dig and Felicity to go home and take the night off. He on the other hand, fully intended on going straight to Verdant and downing as many bottles of vodka as he could until he passed out, blissfully ignorant of the world around him and if he did his job right, sans nightmares.

Oliver waked into his club that he briefly ran with Tommy. Sighing heavily, he looked around remembering how Tommy thrived in his position as club manager. Rubbing his tense neck, he threw is jacket on the bar and walked behind it to gather the evening's necessary supplies. He grabbed a full bottle of vodka and slammed it on the bar followed by three stacks of clean shot glasses. 'This is going to be a project,' he though solemnly as he found his way back to the other side of the bar to the cold metal stool.

Oliver was on his fourth shot when he heard a familiar sound of clicking heels behind him. He figured it was just Thea finally coming to try to brighten his spirits so he put his head down onto the bar awaiting the sisterly barrage of halfhearted sympathy. He felt someone beside him, jump onto the stool to his right. He waited a few seconds, but when no fortune cookie type adage about how he should take life 'one day at a time' came his way, Oliver lifted his head from the bar to look to next to him. He was startled upon seeing the familiar blonde he had sent away hardly even one hour ago. A wave of relief and appreciation washed over him. But how could she have known he would be here? He lifted his eyebrow at her and she got his silent message 'Why are you here?'

"You were acting extra broody today, hardly looked anyone in the eye and didn't even crack a smirk at my irrational babbling. So I did a few searches and like I always say, if it's on the internet I can find it. Today is Tommy's birthday. I'm so sorry Oliver." She placed a comforting hand on his shoulder as he had done with her countless times. Felicity eyes shifted to the bar, noticing the large stacks of shot glasses and four used ones neatly lined up along the bar. Oliver followed her gaze to his exorbitant amount of glassware and started to explain, "It's a thing me and Tommy used to do." She stood quiet, staring at him with a small smile, prompting him to go on.

"Well whenever Tommy and I would go out, we would never take note of how many shots we were throwing back so as you could imagine, things usually got pretty dangerous. After waking up naked in few random places, more than I would like to admit, we decided we had to figure out a way to keep track. We tried to do the tick marks on our arms, but we would end up forgetting a sharpie or to mark ourselves completely. And we didn't exactly like having markings on us either. People were constantly mistaking them for tattoos and we would have to explain ourselves about 100 times a night. So instead, Tommy came up with the brilliant idea to stack up shot glasses that we used and it worked. We always knew how many shots we had per venue. However, it did create a sort of challenge for us, always trying to create a bigger pyramid of glasses. So I guess, it was successful depending on how you look at it." Oliver had a faint smile on his lips, recalling how elaborate they managed to make their shot glass structures. He finally turned back to look at Felicity and she had an understanding, comforting smile on her face. She reached over him to grab two shot glasses and the bottle of vodka. She poured two shots and lifted hers in the air. "To Tommy," she toasted. He stared at her for a minute in complete shock. He had just used his words. Way more than his usual quota of 4-5 per person. He had told a story about Tommy without wanting to breakdown in tears or smashing something to pieces. That was new. How was it possible that this one person he never thought would be a significant part of his life, was now the only one helping him keep himself together. He smirked at the wonderful gift the world must have sent him and picked up his shot glass. "To Tommy," Oliver clinked her glass and they threw back the shot. Felicity shivered and made her 'about to hack' face for a split second before reaching the bottle vodka again. While reaching out for two fresh shot glasses she asked, "So who was the best wing man, you or him?"

The evening progressed with Oliver regaling Felicity with all of his favorite Tommy memories and building their pyramid. For such a small girl, she really could hold her liquor. He had realized that this was the most comfortable he had felt in years. It felt good to bring up parts of his past that didn't hurt and also learn a few things about his partner in vigilante madness. He noticed he had never felt quite so warm and relaxed, and he didn't think the copious amount of alcohol was the only reason. It was his Felicity. With her bright lipstick, flashy nails, and colored dresses, Oliver never stood a chance. She was so compassionate and welcoming. He hadn't felt truly cared about in what seemed like forever. He always had to have a guard up, waiting for the next attack or 'friend' to backstab him. With her sitting so close and smiling so widely at him, he was able to let down his defenses and start to believe that there was still good in the world. He noticed he was able to drop all the different roles he was required to play: adoring son, powerful CEO, fearless vigilante. Felicity allowed him to just be Oliver, even for just a little while.

At the end of the night, a very drunk Felicity called Dig to take them home.

"Thank you Felicity. For this," he gestured to their pretty impressive sized pyramid of shot glasses, "For everything." Felicity stood up from her stool and simply hugged him.

Suddenly, he felt the crater start to close slightly. His body felt lighter somehow and he was suddenly very aware of his heart beating strongly in his chest.

"You are very welcome Oliver." She whispered, pulled back and hopped back up to sit down. In that moment, when her warmth left his body, he knew that he would do whatever it took to feel what he just felt everyday for the rest of his life.


End file.
